


Harp Lessons

by seekingtomorrow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingtomorrow/pseuds/seekingtomorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domeric tries to teach Rhaegar how to play the harp while they discuss their more-than-platonic feelings toward their best friend, Lyanna.  Meanwhile, Lyanna has secrets of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harp Lessons

Domeric sighed heavily. "Rhaegar, you're holding the harp wrong."

"What?" Rhaegar looked the positioning of his hands on the instruments. "How do you _hold_ a harp incorrectly?"

Domeric sighed again. "Why do you even want me to teach you how to play this if you aren't going to cooperate?"

Rhaegar ran a hand over his slicked back hair. "Lyanna said she's into guys who know how to play instruments."

"And you figured you'd impress her by playing _harp_?"

"You played for her at her birthday and she kissed you on the cheek for that!"

Domeric puffed himself up slightly. "I do suppose my harp playing is pretty impressive."

"Do you think Lyanna would be impressed if I did a song for her?" Rhaegar asked Domeric, his expression eager.

"I guess," said Domeric. He couldn't quite bring himself to say no to Rhaegar. He didn't handle rejection that well. Last time someone had turned down his invitation to the spring formal, Rhaegar had gone out and bought forty-five pairs of argyle socks. Forty-five. Currently, most of them sat at the bottom of his closet.

"It won't be awkward for you, will it?" Rhaegar was saying.

"What?"

"Me and Lyanna," said Rhaegar, "as a couple. I hope it won't be too awkward for your two best friends to be dating and doing all sorts of weird couple stuff together."

Domeric raised an eyebrow. "First off, when did she ever agree to dating you?"

"She will." Rhaegar sounded confident. "After she hears my amazing harp skills."

"You mean the harp skills I taught you."

"Close enough."

"Second, I thought I told you that I was going to ask Lyanna out."

Rhaegar looked taken aback. "When did we ever agree to that? I'm pretty sure we said I was going to be the one to ask her out."

Domeric felt a headache coming on. "Why don't we just ask her ourselves?"

"Ask me what?"

Both boys turned around to the source of the voice. Standing near the entrance to Domeric's basement was Lyanna Stark. She was fresh out of softball practice, a grimy cap—probably a hand-me-down from her brother—perched on her head.

"We were going to ask if you wanted to come bowling with us," said Rhaegar, switching topics with all the ease of the perfect little prince he was raised to be.

"Bowling?" Lyanna scoffed, exchanging a look with Domeric. "Bowling's for old people. Why don't we go to the batting cages?"

Domeric nodded in agreement, as he was shortstop for their school's baseball team. "I'd like that."

"See?" Lyanna looked at Rhaegar pointedly. "Domeric's cool. Why can't you be more cool like him?"

Rhaegar adjusted his ascot nervously. "I can be cool."

"Not as cool as Elia, I'll bet."

"Who?" Domeric and Rhaegar asked in unison.

"Elia," Lyanna said. "Elia Martell?" She sighed dramatically, glaring at Rhaegar. "You asked her to the spring formal last year and she rejected you because you were 'too much of a wimp'? Then, you drowned your sorrows in argyle socks?"

"Ah, yes." Rhaegar's expression turned sour as he thought of the fearsome Elia Martell who drove a motorcycle and wore a leather jacket no matter the temperature.

"I didn't know you were friends with Elia Martell," said Domeric.

"I wouldn't say we're just friends…" Lyanna trailed off nervously.

"What are you, then?" Asked Rhaegar. "Enemies?" He punctuated every sentence he spoke with a _twang_ from the harp. Domeric glared at him.

"No, not really." Lyanna's face was bright red.

"You can tell us." Domeric patted the tartan couch. Lyanna quickly sat down next to him, earning a jealous scowl from Rhaegar.

"Is she bullying you?" Rhaegar asked. He pulled on the strings of the harp rather violently. "Because I can have a talk with her, if you'd like."

Domeric instantly remembered the one time Gregor "the Mountain" Clegane had been making fun of Elia's eldest brother. She'd proceeded to punch his lights out and slash three out of the four tires of his truck. Gregor had never bothered the Martells again.

"No, she's not bullying me." Lyanna shook her head.

"Then what is it?"

"We're…er…dating."

Silence filled the room. Rhaegar stood up, trying to cradle the harp in his arms, but failing miserably due to its size.

"Where're you going?" Lyanna asked curiously.

"To buy more socks."


End file.
